I’d rather be 40 than 13. 13 was an ugly age, literally and figuratively. It was the time when I had big feet, like a puppy who hadn’t grown yet. I had big 80s hair and braces. And middle school kids were mean! They still are. If you need proof, go hang out in the hallway at a school for a few minutes. They’ll have no problem shoving you out of the way.
I’d rather be 40 than a boy. I like being a girl. When it’s raining, I don’t have to go get the car. When the trash needs to go out, I’m not the one who takes it. When the grass needs mowing, you won’t see me out there having an allergy attack. Why? Because I’m a girl. I’m so glad God made me female, and I plan to stay that way.
I’d rather be 40 than an elephant. Did you know mama elephants carry their babies for 22 months? Then, they nurse them for four to five years! Can you imagine? I’m glad I’m 40.
I’d rather be 40 than a twin. I already have to share my birthday with the week of Christmas. I’d hate to have to share my birthday with my sibling! Plus, with my luck, she would be cuter than me.
I’d rather be 40 than 22. At 40, I’ve had enough experiences that I feel like a real-live grown up. I don’t feel like I’m pretending. When I was 22, I was married and owned a house. People expected me to be a grown up. However, in my head, I was 16. I kept waiting for someone to catch on to the fact that I was just pretending to be an adult. I’m glad I’m an adult now. I care a whole lot less about what others think of me, and I don’t worry about getting in trouble anymore.
I’d rather be 40 than a foot doctor. I think feet are very creepy. While I would like mine rubbed all the time, I really don’t want to touch anyone else’s. Can you imagine a job where you have to touch feet all day? And these aren’t normal feet. These are feet with issues. Ewww.
I’d rather be 40 than a hair stylist. Hair creeps me out. If you don’t believe me, read about the Disney Incident.
I’d rather be 40 than a massage therapist. Basically, I just don’t like to touch people in general. (Which is kind of ironic, because I’m a toucher!) I always think about the “Friends” episode where Ross gave a massage using wooden spoons. That would be me if I had to give massages.
Now that I’ve considered my other options, 40 isn’t so bad. I didn’t ask to be this age. I wasn’t even expecting it. Since it’s here, though, I might as well make the best of it! I’m 40. Yay me. -Al